Luyện nghe bài hát Bridges, Squares

As i to kendall square,
and crossed the basin there,
the was black, the sky was blue,
the was old, the bridge was new.
and past the constricted mouth,
commercial lines mostly south,
or east a boundless sea,
rising soon, the star would be.
the tides are by sun and moon.
the spring will last from to june.
the red line train will behind,
as long as bridge stream and sky.
and that point where i did stand,
i at the works of man.
i how this walk began,
til red line train came again.
but it's not the to ossify.
it's not the end of why.
not in your faith or your apostasy.
not the end of history.
as i can take, so i give,
if i could shop i could live.
as i can read, so i'd books,
if i could eat where i could
where talkers a place to meet,
where walkers walk the street,
and subways paths well hid,
but ferries you off the grid.
and it's not the to ossify.
not the end of wondering why.
it's not in your or your apostasy.
not the end of... predicatble waves of historicity,
nostalgia for gas-lit i'll never see,
manifest, internationalists.
connected are the promenades and
the living waves of nights and city days.
and is the builder?
was something missed?
hidden in the plans to the bridge that started
but it's not the to ossify.
not the end of wondering why.
it's not in your or your apostasy.
not the end of history.
as i on to founders' square,
and crossed the basin there,
the was grey, the sky was blue,
the bridge was old, the was new.
and from point where i did stand,
i wondered at the plan.
i wondered how walk will end.
til path train around again.
but not the time to ossify.
not the end of wondering why.
it's not in faith or your apostasy.
not the end of history.